


Riding Crop

by Redcrow



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcrow/pseuds/Redcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds something under Sherlock's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding Crop

John woke up to find himself alone in Sherlock's bed. He stretched and yawned, quite comfortable to stay wrapped up in the warm, pale sheets, the sheets that still smelled faintly of Sherlock. That deeply sensual mixture of Sandalwood, Cedar wood, chemicals and his own personal scent, that John couldn't place or explain.

He rolled over and buried his face into Sherlock's pillow, inhaling deeply through his nose. He rolled again, intending to sit and eventually get up but the sheets were wrapped around his legs and he rolled too far, dropping off the bed with a thud and an expletive.

"Ow" He mumbled kicking his legs free of the sheet, he turned positioning his hands to push himself up off the floor. Something caught his eye, something shiny and metallic, reflected the morning light back at him from under the bed. John reached forward and grasped the handle of the riding crop, it's black leather cool and smooth under his fingers, the silver top cold and bright. He pulled it out, sitting up on the floor and ran his hand over the length of it's shaft.

The first time John had set eyes on his beloved madman, Sherlock had mentioned his riding crop, something about leaving it in the mortuary. John never had found out why, why Sherlock had a riding crop or why it had been in the mortuary, he might have to ask Molly about that one day.  
John pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed just as the door opened and a tall, lanky detective looked in.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked with some concern. "What was that thud?"

"Oh I fell out of bed." John said "And then I found this." He announced, holding up the crop.

"Oh..." Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Why do you have a riding crop Sherlock, I've never known you to go riding?"

"Er..um..well I used to..." Sherlock trailed off.

"And why do you keep it under your bed?" John's grin was rapidly turning wicked.

"Um...er...John...I..." Sherlock was twisting his hands together, his eyes downcast.

"Look Sherlock," John began, "I think we know each other well enough now.." and done enough to each other, he thought "that you can tell me if this is something you enjoy? After all we both like a little pain in the bedroom, my bite marks can attest to that." John said with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Er..."

"You do don't you? Was that one of the attractions of Miss Adler?"

"Er..." Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. "Yes, ok yes, I do like that but it wasn't something I was going ask for. It seemed too far from your character, I didn't think you would want..."

John's smile broadened as Sherlock stepped over to him and sat down, he was actually a little red in the face, something that John had only rarely seen before.

"We'll need to talk about this set out some rules. Hurting you because you want it is one thing but hurting you by accident is something else." John squeezed Sherlock's knee.  
Sherlock nodded silently.

It was three days before they got a chance to talk about Sherlock's masochistic tendencies and set out some rules. John made it clear he would never want to leave any permanent marks on his lover and Sherlock made it clear that he did not enjoy humiliation (of course), only the physical pain, in the right place at the right time. Safe words were discussed and one decided on. It was another day before they got a chance to try it all out.

John had just jumped out of the shower and toweled himself down when he heard the thwack. He stepped to the bedroom doorway and the sight before him stilled the breath in his lungs. Sherlock was stretched out, on his front, just a sheet lying low on his hips, the pale expanse of his back like a waiting canvas. He held the riding crop raised in his right hand and as those improbably turquoise eyes held John, he brought it down sharply on bed.

John swallowed, the blood rushing to a certain part of his anatomy. He leaned down, running a hand from Sherlock's waist, up and then down along his arm to the hand holding the crop, lacing his fingers through Sherlock's. He climbed onto the bed, discarding the towel that was doing little to hide his growing arousal, straddling Sherlock's thighs, pinning him under the sheet.

John leaned down further, his lips touching the warm skin of Sherlock's neck, his teeth grazing over Sherlock's jaw, his tongue slipping against Sherlock's lips parting them beneath his own, as he gripped the crop and took it from Sherlock's hand.

"Let me see you." John whispered, rising up on his knees to give space for Sherlock to turn over under him.  
Sherlock rolled, his hip bone brushing John's erection, until he was prone on his back, gazing up at John.  
John gripped the sheet with his right hand and yanked it down, irrationally irritated by it's presence. Even now after months of being lovers he marveled at the body below him. No other man had caused this emotional and physical reaction in him. He swapped his hold on the crop, freeing his right hand and caressed that pale flesh, thrilled at the contraction of Sherlock's stomach muscles as he touched him. His hand moving lower he was also thrilled to see how hard Sherlock already was, John's own cock twitched as he took the sight in.

John lifted the riding crop and placed the tip against Sherlock's cheek, running it down to his jaw. Sherlock's lips parted as he sighed, a slight sound in the silent room and his eyes drifted closed as his hips tilted forward with want.  
John raised the crop a little more and brought it down sharply over Sherlock's left nipple. Immediately Sherlock gasped and a bead of pre-ejaculate rolled from the slit of his ever hardening cock.

"Oh god.." John whispered as he watched his lover squirm with pleasure. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"Shut up John and hit me...harder." Sherlock's voice was rough, deep and full of desire.

John raised the crop again and brought it down hard over the other nipple. Sherlock's entire body spasmed, his hips jerking enough to lift John off the bed.

"Jesus Sherlock, you... you're close aren't you?"

"One more... John and I'm there." Sherlock whispered, his eyes half lidded and dark with lust.

John raised the crop once more and with his right hand he gripped Sherlock's cock, squeezing and stroking at the same time as the crop made hot hard contact with his skin. Sherlock cried out, an animal sound, part pain, part ecstasy as his cock pulsed in John's hand and hot come spurted over both of them.

John was mesmerised by sight below him. The pale cheeks flushed with spent desire, the red welts rising on the white skin and the cooling pearly liquid on his knuckles.

"Oh my god Sherlock, I barely touched you."

"I'm sorry..." Sherlock started to say.

"Oh no, don't be, that was fucking amazing."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a kink (and head canon) that Sherlock gets off on pain.
> 
> Art by the awesome kuuttamo who kindly let me use it. kuuttamo can be found here: http://kuuttamo.tumblr.com/
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I just borrow them from time to time.


End file.
